hi emm! Since it’s prom season could u make basketball sukuna reacting to someone from the team asking you out for prom?
A/N: hii! i actually received a vv similar request a long time ago and i deleted it because i didnt know how to write it, so maybe this is a sign from God — my redemption time, LMAO
PS: sorry to all my readers who are actually jelly lovers, i am not one of you
“So,” Gojo started, while shoving fries into his mouth, “have you got a date yet? Prom’s comin’ up real quick, y’know?”
The basketball team had just won their last game of the season, and all the players were eating out together in celebration. Sukuna was planning on just spending the rest of the night celebrating with you, like usual, but Gojo dragged him away and you only gave a thumbs up in encouragement. What a girlfriend you were, Sukuna scoffed, handing off your dear boyfriend to Gojo Satoru.
“Why do you care?” Sukuna grimaced at Gojo’s messy eating habits. How could one dare to speak while stuffing their face? Sukuna thought Gojo grew up wealthy, and, hey, aren’t rich people supposed to be, like, super into decorum? Where is this man’s etiquette?
“Sheesh, sorry for asking. I just wanted to know if my friend here,” he nudged Sukuna with his elbow, “needed some help getting a date. No need to be ashamed, Captain. I could hook you up with one of Utahime’s friends.”
“Yeah, no. But since you’re so curious, Satoru, I do have a date, actually.”
“No way, seriously? The big, bad, captain of the basketball team, has a date? For prom? I have to tell Suguru this.” Gojo whipped out his phone and, with his sauce-covered fingers, started typing like a madman.
Sukuna cringed, looking away and biting into his burger. This did not taste as good as your cooking. Why oh why did you let Satoru take him away? he thought. Sukuna would much rather be with you right now, even if it meant having to sit through one of your godawful rom-coms. Any of those would be better than Gojo fucking Satoru.
“I cannot believe he is missing this because he’s sick. Sick! That’s actually sick of him. Haha, get it?” Gojo leaned back in his chair, and Sukuna wished he would slip and fall backwards.
“There’s nothing shocking about me having a date, Satoru. I’m not some kind of loser.”
“Yeah, well. Yorozu’s not attached to your arm right now, so I thought—”
“I told you, I don’t like her like that. I don’t like her at all, matter of fact.”
“She’s, like, obsessed with you, dude.”
“I know,” Sukuna ran a hand down his face. “Just wish she would leave me alone, I’ve been trying my best to avoid her. And I haven’t seen her as often, so I think it’s working.” If Yorozu didn’t take the hint sooner or later, Sukuna would make your guys’ relationship known to the whole campus if he had to. Hell, Gojo didn’t even know yet. No one did, actually.
“Damn, so cold. You just gonna ignore her and break her heart?” Gojo laughed, but that quickly came back to kick him in the butt when he started choking on a fry.
“If you’re not joking, that fry will be the last thing you eat. I swear on your life, I do not want anything to do with that bitch.”
Gojo continued coughing and choking and shaking, but when all subsided and the white-haired man regained most of his posture, he posed the question, “So, you’re not gonna, like, ask me?”
“Ask you what? Ask you to prom? The fuck?”
“No, no, no. I mean, unless you wanted to,” Gojo tucked an overgrown strand of hair behind his ear, a stupid expression on his stupid face. “But, I’m talking about what I asked you. So, you gonna ask me if I have a prom date?”
“I don’t give a fuck if your lame ass has a date or not,” Sukuna spat out.
“Have you any idea how hurt I am now, because of you? Ehuhwaaa,” Gojo let out the fakest ugliest cry Sukuna had ever heard. “You think my ass is lame? Do you know how many would pay to see even a glimpse of my tush?”
“No. And I hope it stays that way.”
“I—how dare you.”
That night, Sukuna had to run away from Gojo in the parking lot of an In-n-Out. Otherwise, Gojo would’ve probably never left him alone. And, you might be thinking, Gojo is a fast runner. How did Sukuna get away? Well, it may or may not have been because Gojo had scarfed down three double-doubles prior. And he could barely stand upright without having to lean against Sukuna.
But, fear not, Sukuna did make it home, into your arms. And even though he did have to sit through your stupid rom-coms, he was so fucking glad to finally be away from that white-haired idiot.
Unfortunately for Sukuna, that peace and tranquility was short-lived. The next morning, he was woken up by your overly obnoxious doorbell. Seriously, when were you going to replace it?
Sukuna groaned, whispering into your hair, “Didn’t know you were expecting visitors, babe.”
“Hm?” Your voice was muffled; your face pressed impossibly close into Sukuna’s bare chest.
“Visitor, sweetheart. Someone’s at your door.”
“Huh?” You stuck your head up from your human pillow, and though missing the warmth, you were quite confused. Visitor? Since when?
It’s safe to say you were even more surprised to see Gojo Satoru outside when you opened your door. But you weren’t the only confused one, not for long, at least. Gojo raised his brow when he saw Sukuna emerge from behind you in all his glory: shirt nowhere to be found, hair unruly, and sweatpants hanging low on his hips.
“Captain? What are you—?” Gojo cleared his throat, “Whatever. Anyway, will you, Y/N, do me the honor of being the jelly to my peanut butter and going to prom with me?” Gojo flashed a smile so bright Sukuna almost fell backwards.
“Uhh, I’m sorry—”
“She doesn’t even like jelly, dumbass. And what’s with this horrendous sign? That’s seriously the best you’ve got?” Sukuna gestured with his chin at the poorly drawn and colored peanut butter jar and jelly. Not to mention, Gojo was also dressed as a sandwich, with two slices of bread on either side of his body.
“What the hell? How would you know if she liked jelly or not?”
“Because I’m her prom date.”
“And—and, what are you doing at her house?”
“I’m her boyfriend.” Sukuna glared at the white male, and slung an arm around your shoulder, out of spite.
Gojo paused, finally putting the puzzle pieces together. “Ohhh. So that’s why you didn’t want to come eat with us yesterday. And that’s why you were so desperate to go home. And that’s why I haven’t seen you with another girl in months.”
“Uh huh.”
“Anywho,” Gojo turned back to you, shoving his sign all up in your face. “Will you go to prom with me?”
“Dude.”
Taglist: @beyond-your-stars @sad-darksoul @mochimoee @r0ckst4rjk @lillycore @deepchromatose @yinyinyinyinyinyin @fivehoneyharg @desihopelessromantic @taiyakii @hannas16 @acroso @msvalsius @call-memissbrightside @kelerina-ballerina @emikokomura
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Can I request Sick!Swk and Fem!reader?
Oh this’ll be fun
Sick!Wukong and Fem!Reader
Let’s be honest here: fucker never had anyone play nurse when he was sick before so he just pushes on
But he sneezed one too many times in the past half hour for your liking so you asked what was up
“Oh just a case of a celestial cold, it’ll go away with time.”
He says this as he is currently moving around trees, casually rearranging the landscape
You dragged him by the ear to the bed, pushing him down on it
“Stay”
“I’m not a dog-“
“Stay”
He stayed
You then texted MK for an emergency order of chicken noodle soup, cause you know this bitch doesn’t have a kitchen and lives off his hair and peaches
You then rounded up all the little monkeys, politely asking them to be less chaotic as their king was not in the best health
And these monkeys, they delivered
They started to clean up the messes around the mountain and the shacks, but you paid no mind as you were busy babysitting Wukong
Now, I feel like as soon as this bitch realizes that you are actually taking care of him, he milks it for what it’s worth
“Oh how my back aches~ can you please massage it?”
“Oh I feel so coolllddd, I need my personal heater… can you come a bit closer?”
To be fair to him, he’s not used to the one on one attention for his needs; he doesn’t know when it’s gonna come again so he tries to get as much as he can get
I cannot express enough how much this man thinks he has to handle everything himself. Please give him a break from the weight on his shoulder
Once the noodle soup arrives, he will ask you to spoon feed him because he’s sooo weak right now
Which is half true, once he actually sat down from his work, the sickness hit him like a fucking truck
But you oblige every request
He’s only this openly needy when he’s sick so you don’t see a problem that he actually communicating his needs, no matter how over dramatic he is
And that’s all folks!
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Winter's King 16
No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.
Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, cheating, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: You are a maid to the Duke of Debray, a lord of the Summer Kingdom. That is, until the king of Winter appears with his particular air of coldness. (Medieval AU)
Characters: Geralt of Rivia
Note: I didn't sleep very well but I'm here.
As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.
Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.
I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖
As you move North, the sunlight fades sooner and rises later, the nights cooling with each mile. Nearly a fortnight on the road, and you return to the service of the queen. Bryce escorts you between the carts, gesturing in passing to his comrades, other times letting past another body on their own mission. You reach the front of the train where men with swords pace and keep watch over the surrounding lands.
“Evenin’,” Bryce greets the guards outside the queen’s tent and they grumble back. The weariness of travel has overcome many of the travelers.
You dip your head down and approach the tent flap. Before the card can pull it back for your entrance, it sweeps open from the other side. You step back as another figure falters before you. The king keeps hold of the silk and his eyes skim over you. He tilts his head and moves to hold the fabric open, beckoning you through with his large hand.
“Your highness,” you murmur.
His jaw squares but he says nothing. As you enter, the fabric falls heavily behind you. The king’s expression lingers in your mind, his silence even more. The tick in his cheek was hard to miss and you can hear his heavy footfalls as he stalks off.
Within, the queen sits on a bench, playing with the tassel of her belt. Her father, Lord Dustan, stands to the side, arms crossed as he makes small steps back and forth. He tuts and chews his thumb.
“Your husband does not behave as son-in-law,” the duke gripes lowly, “he would have let Debray fall to those vandals. He cares only for his frost lands.”
“Father, he is only eager to be home. As much as I dread the cold, I cannot help but feel as such. I tire of this endless road,” Queen Jazlene yawns into a cupped hand.
“Ah, but you must be a loyal wife. What of mine? What of your mother? She was alone in the castle.”
“And you rode out to save her, didn’t you?” Jazlene prompts.
“I am a lord of the summer lands, I am past my warring days,” Dustan snarls, “he would risk my flesh on an uprising he could crush with his left hand. He tests me!” The duke circles around as he jabs his finger in the air, “I deserve more dignity, more respect. I delivered him his kingdom.”
“Yes, father, he is a frigid man,” Jazlene bemoans, “as icy a husband. He does neglect us both.”
“Neglect?” Dustan faces his daughter, “does he not see to his contract?”
She frowns and bats her doey eyes as she looks away, “it isn’t that he doesn’t fulfill his duty, it is only... how might I get an heir if I lie with my husband only once in a moon?”
“Does he mean to deceive us? A son will bind us. A son is what we need. Does he think the summer lands will follow a king who does not sow his seed?”
“I do not know, father. I... I have tried all I can think of.”
“Mm,” the duke hums darkly, “that won’t do at all. Not at all. When I married your mother, she was swollen with you almost as soon as the vows were said. No, no, it won’t do. I will have word with the king, make certain he does not treat my daughter, his queen, so coolly.”
Dustan stop and twiddles his fingers. You try to imagine him confronting King Geralt. Surely it is bluster for the sake of his daughter.
“...we are ruined without an heir...” he mutters.
Jazlene sits forward on the bench, “ruined, father? I am queen--”
“Yes, yes, you are queen, but a queen has her duty too,” Dustan insists, “and it cannot be done with a negligent king. Leave it to me, daughter. The next I see the king, I shall handle our business. As I have ever done. Do you believe in me? For I did deliver you a fine marriage, didn’t I?”
“Yes, father.”
The duke goes to his daughter and rubs her shoulder. He leans in and you shrink against the tent wall, making yourself small.
“Should it prove poor judgment,” his whisper scratches from his lips, “I will figure a way out.”
He kisses her hair and turns to march out. He takes not notice of you though that is expected. Jazlene sighs as the flap falls and she leans back on her hands, swaying her leg.
“Ah, the maid,” she cheeps, “you will fetch hot water for my feet. They ache.”
“Yes, your highness.”
She grins, a catlike expression and sits up straight, “yes, that is right. I am a queen and soon, the king will be certain to treat me as such.”
You flit off to your duty. As you emerge, your chest stirs with unease. Something about their conversation has you unnerved. Though they said nothing outright, it feels as if there is more laced between the words. The queen and her father hardly sound as allies to the king.
You try to wipe the apprehension from your mind. You are but a maid and not so well-versed on noble matters. It isn’t your place to unpiece their declarations or untangle their riddles. You are to get the water to sooth the daughter of Debray’s feet, it may yet save you a box to the ears.
⚔️
You shiver as the cart bounces over the hard ground. You count a month or so since your departure from the capital though the days blend in a fog. The gradual creep of the chill has advanced upon the part, slowing the wheels, and sending the riders to pause and cover their horses. You keep the fur cloak over your lap as you lean into the corner of the cart though Bryce seems enlivened by the atmosphere.
The dim sky harkens the crossing of the intangible barrier between the summer and winter lands. Sprawling plains and rounded feels give way to rocky passes and jutting mountains, interspersed with lumpy tundras speckled with patches of mud. Several times, your soldierly escort has had to help yank free the wheels from some rut or another.
“Are we there?” You ask through as chatter, blowing into your hands. “The Hinterlands?”
“Mm, by my guess, we are at the Fox’s Tail. You see, it is the little strip of land where no man lives, summer or winter,” he explains, reaching to scratch his beard. You envy the warmth it must give to his cheeks. “Isn’t so cold yet, mouse, better brace yerself.”
You nod and look ahead at the grey, brown expanse. There are dustings of frost but not snow, only on the distant caps of rugged mountains that shadow the horizon. You hug yourself as Daisy’s breath plumes in misty clouds around her head.
“Why does no one live here?” You ask.
“There are no trees, no grass to feed the livestock or game,” he shrugs, “it is barren...” he sucks his teeth and thinks, “there was a war. Hundreds of years ago, maybe more. The summer folk spilled upon the winter lands, some squabble over a slain lord... they put salt to the earth. They did not only want vengeance on the living, they wanted their descendants to suffer for their misdeeds. Starve out an entire people.”
He snorts and shakes his head, “what the summer people didn’t understand is that the winter skinned do not stay still. They move with the winds. You’ll see, mouse. You haven’t done the last of yer scurrying.”
You huddle down as another cold breath sweeps through the air. You’re not used to it but you will be. That’s how it always is. You just have to take what you get and make it work. You can’t complain for what you have; a warm cloak, a cart, and a kind companion.
⚔️
Your teeth chatter as you hold closed the front of the fur cloak, the hood over your head as you walk the frozen earth. More often than not, you’ve left the prized cape in your cart for your return. It is too heavy to wear while serving the queen but the weather permits you no mercy. It is far too bitter to forgo the extra layer.
Bryce is unbothered in his mail and the simple fur trim the collar of his wool cloak. He only seems to thrive in the dipping temperatures, stoking a fire for your nocturnal return so that you may sleep in its warmth. His constancy keeps you from mourning the lost summer sunshine.
He stands behind you as you cross to the queen’s tent, now raised with several layers to insulate the walls. You enter as you do every night, unnoticed as Queen Jazlene mindlessly stares into the pages of a book. She’s grown quiet these last weeks as the travel wears on her, even her wardrobe showing the effects.
You feel a gust from beneath the tent wall and step away from it. You watch the queen, huddled beneath a blanket on a stool, shaking as she tries to warm her hands in each other. She wears several satin cloaks layered over each other but the fabric is too sleek to garner much heat.
She puffs into her palms and groan.
“Damn this cold,” she mutters, then sits up, “maid, tea!” She demands, “Something warm! Anything!”
You utter a small “your highness” and spin away to your task. You step out into the cold and go off to find a fire and a pot. The queen has some berry tea in her chests.
You acquire a cup of steaming water from a cluster of servants around a flame. You linger for a moment to absorb some of the fire’s haze then set back toward the royal tent. As you near, a shadow nearly collides with you. You keep the cup balanced as you scramble around the figure. The torch light catches the king’s golden eyes as they meet yours.
“Your highness,” you murmur.
He grunts as he stops fully. He stares down at you wordlessly. You cannot read his expression as shadows dance around his features, flickering various emotions across his face. He bows his head and presses on. You turn to watch him go as concern rolls up your throat.
In those last weeks, months you believe, you’ve not seen much of the king. You’ve wondered after his elusivity. At first, you thought it might be due to the combat at Debray, perhaps he was disheartened by the last act of resistance. Then you surmised it might be evasion of his own wife. Alas, you could not guess and fathomed it was not your place to do so.
This brief encounter further perplexes you. You can’t help but question if it is you. You recall the last day in the capital, the grit of his voice casting you out. Go. The memory ripples through you.
You think much of yourself. It wouldn’t be anything to do with a paltry maid. You focus on the hot water in your hand and continue on to the queen’s tent.
You enter and wrap the dried berries and leaves, steeping them in the steaming water. You hover over the cup, waiting for the water to deepen in hue and cool enough to drink. When you bring it to the queen, you feel her gaze upon you.
“Your highness,” you hand her the cup.
She hesitates to take it, only doing so after deep consideration. She holds the tea in one hand as her other tugs on your cloak. She makes an ugly noise.
“And where did you find this, maid?” She sneers. “Hmm, I sit her in my summer garb and you wear a bear’s skin?”
Your lips part and you raise your shoulders. You look at the tent wall and frown. You poke your hand outside the cloak and touch the soft fur.
“Your highness,” you look down at the cloak then at her trembling grasp on the cup. “Would you like it? You look awfully cold.”
“Yes, I want the damn cloak!” She yanks it hard, “I am the queen and you did not think to offer me a proper cloak? How stupid are you.”
You bow your head and reach to unbuckle the cloak. When it is loose, you shrug it off and hand it over. You will find a spare blanket. There must be some left among the luggage.
She shoves the cup at you and stands. She swings the cloak around her and hums as she pulls its snug around her figure. She sits again and rubs her chin against the fur.
“Much better,” she says, “I’ve been suffering this damnable place for far too long.”
She takes the tea back, spilling a drop on your hand. You back away, the liquid cooling and sending a new chill through you. You cover one hand with the other and clutch tightly, locking your jaw against the tremor that crawls up your spine.
The queen slurps from the tea and makes a face. She sneers, “I want wine,” she pouts, “how long must I be deprived? Wine!” She snarls down at the cup, “but I must drink this bile. Oh, but the king bids it,” she raises her voice mockingly, “you must obey your husband.” She shakes her head and takes another gulp, “at least it is warm. At least--”
She holds the cup away from her suddenly as her face twists. She drops it and recoils, panic washing over her. She keels forward, holding her skirts out of the way as she spews onto the rug spread over the hard ground. She wretches loudly, spasming with the horrid sounds snagging in her throat.
The smell of her vomit permeates the tent. She stays bent over her lap as she pants. You come forward and offer her a handkerchief to wipe her mouth. She sits up and gulps tightly, her features drawn. She pats her lips.
“Well, clean it up,” she turns her feet away from the puddle between them. “Stupid maid.”
She pokes a sharp nail into your arm and you wince.
“Your highness, are you unwell?” You ask, “shall I fetch a physician? Or some ginger?”
“No, you stupid cow, I am not unwell,” she flicks her fingers at you before waving away the stench of her bile. She stands and walks away from it, her hand settling on her middle. She faces you and smiles broadly, “I am carrying the king’s son.” Her face darkens as she wrinkles her nose, “I told you, you twit, to clean that up. You best do so before I make you eat it.”
You nod and bend your neck, “yes, your highness, I will fetch water.”
“I don’t care, just do it,” she snaps and rubs her stomach. She lets out a shuddery groan and turns her back to you. You watch as she draws tight the cloak and sways with a trill, “I will be a true queen now. He cannot deny me any longer.”
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April CPNs round-up! ❤️💛💚
• BJYX shows up in station sisters team building photos/videos. proving that the pairing is still very much relevant and loved 🫶🏼
• allegedly spending some time together 4/2 and 4/3 when yibo went to shanghai
• cql and xz gets mentioned in a livestream for WoF
• wyb with a beaded bracelet that seems to be a clue that he spent time with GG ; more on the initial thoughts about the bracelet and why give an obsidian one
•zsww fake rumor of their meet up
•their love for watching old cctv spring festival gala sketches
• 4/8, in the FPU douyin update, he continues on with the dog theme ☺️ he really is a puppy! gouzaizai!
• not really a cpn/candy but their name side by side for the alleged registration list for Magnolia Award. i’m just so proud and as a cpf, it feels good seeing them succeed. 👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼
• 4/8 cpns : fan used for camping that xz uses, the number 38 and us clowning about concerts
• some are comparing this interaction between wyb and hjy in FPU bts with how he is with GG. saying when he is hurt, he goes all out and shows it to GG but with others he won’t say anything. i agree that this thing is true both for GG/WYB, meaning they only show “weakness” to each other 🥺🥺🥺
* throwback post : fake rumor story during cql shoot of someone that works closely with yibo
• this side by side photo, they look alike in this profile!
• 4/16/24 zsww rumor
• the rumor that wyb visited LOZ shoot and my thoughts on it ; i know i cannot stop people from “enjoying” this material and what it potentially implies but i personally cannot condone the type of behavior that disrespects them. especially xz who has been v frustrated with the leaks happening in his project. and just to dispel the rumors, this is who people are saying is supposedly yibo ⬇️⬇️⬇️
🤦♀️🤦♀️🤦♀️🤦♀️
no shade to this guy. he was just a victim of people’s overzealous tendencies. this is not the first time cpfs have done this, in OOL and OnO we’ve had questionable video evidences too which is most likely not who we think it is. please stop. it’s not just the leaks. we have to protect them. we know they visit each other, let’s just bridge the clues with what they give us. we cpn that they visit the ST or probably even follow certain cpf accounts, there is just no universe that they will see this kind of conversations related to leaked photos and videos and be happy about it.
• DESCENDANTS OF THE SUN AU 😭😭😭😭 idk man. military/police wyb and doctor xz pairing is really top notch!
• 4/19 xiao zhan weibo post for the 6th solar term - Guyu ( Grain Rain ) and all the clowning: one / two
• 4/20 zsww rumor ; hinting at them working on a project where one will direct and the other will act
• WYB’s GQ hat could be a custom made one from Tod’s????
• A new explanation about the mystery driver and comparing it to the mask WYB uses
• There has been some conversation because of WYB’s bazaar shoot with his FPU co star/team and that it’s no longer just XZ that he has done that with. Well i have to say that no matter what people say, the bazaar one with XZ is different. just the production value and theme of it — was more romantic and WYB was totally expressive. plus don’t forget that the shoot for that was where xz called him Venus. it will always be special, cause it’s just the 2 of them. there is no use comparing, i bet you, xz will have a joint cover or spread for LOCH with the female lead. it is part of marketing.
• yibo and his rainbow necklace 🌈
• I will add this here cause i don’t think it needs a separate post with how galaxy brain it is. it’s about certain photos uploaded by YBO being 2.3 MB in size. 23 love zhan. whether this is intentional or something special. who knows. it just came up again this month because the bear photo is with the same file size. 🤷🏻♀️
other instances are outlined by this account on weibo :
February 3, 2:30 pm (Picture 1) // May 11 (Picture 3) // June 1st, Children’s Day, “Children are in love” (Picture 5) // August 5th, birthday composition (Picture 7)// November 22 (Picture 9)
• 4/29 zsww fake rumor
• GUCCI wall 2.0 is close to Lacoste big screen ad! oh the possibilities!
• 4/29 candies to enjoy ( includes: their promos not overlapping, jiayou parallel, double standards and the bead bracelet discussion again )
See you all next month! ✌🏼💛
<<< previous month
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so much John Brady brainrot 🤭 so that being said…..soft dom! Brady headcanons?
Oh my nonny, this ask jumped out at me like a jackrabbit and I feel like it is the perfect time to expound on the forbidden dress scenario I first touched upon around Easter.
Behold some headcannons AND a drabble
Mature/explicit themes below the cut - 18+ only
Given the fact that dear Brady rules his fort with an iron fist (see his lecture to Croz after his struggles finding, I don’t know, England?!) I definitely feel like this man prefers to be in control, but I agree that it errs on the side of a soft!Dom rather than an outright dominant
While he hasn’t engaged in penetrative sex prior to your wedding night, he’s still the one on top, in charge, executing his seduction of you like some kind of pre-flight checklist
And let me tell you it works
As your relationship grows, you definitely feel more confident initiating intimacy, usually at times and in places that leave him slightly bewildered, your desire for him something so utterly mysterious whereas it’s completely logical to him that he cannot get enough of you
But he soon takes over to ensure you get the most amount of pleasure possible, putting himself last
You never realized, however, the potential for him to be suddenly overcome by a need until you wore that seemingly innocuous dress
Securing the zipper at your side, you took a moment to check your appearance in the floor length mirror of your shared bedroom, smoothing the hem of the spring dress in your favourite colour against your knees. It had been an irresistible extravagance when you were at the department store with only socks and underwear on your list, but the neckline and style had called out to you like a siren song.
Smoothing an errant strand of hair, you grabbed your handbag and hurried down the stairs to the living room where John was waiting, scanning the paper for something of interest.
“Ready, honey. Thanks for waiting.” You smiled and he snapped the paper closed along its pre-folded lines but froze as you came into view.
“That’s…that’s new…” he intoned, expression unreadable and making you feel the need to apologize for your over-spending.
“I…yes, I indulged a little at the store, did you want me to-” the sharp shake of his head cut off your offer to take it off, to return it tomorrow.
“It’s perfect.” He exhaled, eyeing you intensely before surging to his feet. “Come on, don’t let me make us late.” He grunted and grabbed his suit jacket from the back of the couch, sliding it on before leading you out to the car.
There was a different tension in the vehicle, John’s eyes flashing in your direction frequently through the short drive to the cathedral, his hand resting heavily against your lower back as he guided you to your favourite pew. The heat of his palm was soaking through the thin fabric of your dress making you shiver at the temperature contrast with the cool stone of the building.
“You chilly?” He leaned in the murmur, the roughness in his voice taking you back to your lazy lovemaking yesterday morning and your jaw dropped open as you suddenly realized just what was going on.
A glance at him to offer a reassuring smile and shake of your head revealed his dilated pupils and slightly flushed cheeks, making you sink to teeth into your lower lip. What on earth had gotten into your husband?!
You could feel the weight of his heated gaze on you like numerous caresses throughout the service, more than confident he didn’t catch a word of the sermon, pressing your lips together sheepishly as somehow you felt at fault for this predicament and yet you couldn’t really bring yourself to mind?
How many times had you found yourself staring at this man, star-struck and breathless with desire in the most inopportune of places…what a heady turn of events this role-reversal was.
As you rose to join your fellow congregants for the weekly post-service chat over coffee and cake, John’s hand slid to your lower back, his skin scorching through your dress by now.
“Would you mind if we ducked out early, sweetheart? I’ve got a bit of a headache…”
Feigning wifely concern, you nodded quickly. “Of course, Johnny, let’s get you home.”
The drive home felt faster than usual, perhaps because he barely stopped at the stop signs, his hand resting on your thigh, fingertips plucking at the hem of your dress idly in the silence of the vehicle. Stepping into the house, you’d barely removed your shoes before his mouth was on yours, hungrily devouring, as his hands seized your hips and pulled you flush against his body.
The prominent bulge of his cock pressed against your hip and you dropped your handbag to slide your fingers into his hair.
“This dress is my devil in the desert.” He growled against your lips, making you laugh breathlessly.
“I wasn’t sure you were paying attention, honey.”
Turning to press you up against the front door, he ground his aching hardness into you. “I was enduring my own test…” he nipped your lips before trailing his mouth down your neck, hands rucking up the hem to slip between your thighs.
Mewling as you pulled at his suit jacket, you clung to him as he pinned you tightly to the door and quickly wrung an orgasm from you with practiced efficiency, leaving you a knock-kneed, panting, shaking mess.
Stepping back to shuck off his jacket and yank his tie free, you reached up to pull down your side zipper, eyes shooting wide at his verbal interjection.
“Ah! This?” His fingers strayed back to toy with the hem of your dress. “No, this stays on.” He said firmly, voice taking on a deep timber that flooded you with fresh desire.
Lurching forward, you instead focused your efforts on stripping him completely, following him down to the small carpet on the foyer floor, lifting your hips as he pulled your underwear off over your garter straps and stockings. Nestling between your thighs beneath your dress, his darkened eyes hungrily drank in the sight of you as he rocked his hardened length through your damp folds until you were begging for him.
“If my wife insists.” He smirked and rocked forward, sinking into your wet heat as your mingled groans filled the foyer.
The novelty of this coupling and desperation of his thrusts, combined with the insistent circles of his thumb on your clit, meant it did not take long for either of you to find release, left a sweaty, gasping mess on the floor of the entry way.
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